Lost 04 HOW Tapes
Everything was piecing together. Except the numbers….. 04. I mean, what the hell does that mean? It’s on every clock face I see, on every car number plate.. and if it dare show up on the face of a child (probably via reflection of their glasses) then I’m gunna end the dork. All the while, my theories have been proved correct up until this point. With my current in ring form, the stats simply don’t lie. But I need consistency more than ever now.
So I began looking in the attic; specifically through a box that had all of my old football programs in. Dating back through the 70s all the way up until current day. Quite the collection. But this was no time for feeling nostalgic. The bizarre thing about it was, though.. they were all there with the exception of one measly program.
A blemish in my history and something that needed to be rectified or face my ultimate doom. Granted, if indeed my theories had any substance, and if it was all connected in some way. Then that would also mean the 04 Premier League football season proved quite significant for my beloved Liverpool. And more so, me. I just didn’t know it yet.
What I did know was that Liverpool had a horrible domestic form that year. Now, I wouldn’t normally go by records and history when conjuring up my own theory. Take for example Dan Ryan and MJ Flair getting ranked higher than myself in the ICON title ranks for seemingly fuck all. Perhaps being picked to be apart of the Best Alliance is all you need. Regardless of form. Which makes Lee’s final pick ever more crucial.
But shit, let’s not stray away from the 04 theory that remains a mainstay in my mind. I am not saying it’s the end of the world yet… Lee still very much coy.
But by a process of elimination and with help from my mate Gavin, we were able to track down the source. On a computer from a library based in Liverpool we were able to identify the missing football program that eluded my collection. Furthermore, giving credence to everything I had been saying from the very beginning: it’s a conspiracy.
Now does August 3rd mean anything to you? No, me neither. But that was only my initial thought. Because after much digging and little beads of sweat running down my crack; on that fateful day Liverpool had a Premier League clash with Aston Villa on their old stomping ground, Villa Park.
Significant? No, not really. Just any other regular football game on a Saturday afternoon. No big deal. But that was until I learned that there was another major sporting event on that day.
HOW War Games 2004.
..Tell me about it! Fucking X-Files shit or what? Yeah, pretty spooky shit. But that was just the tip of the iceberg, Scully.
Now before this turned into another drunk alien abduction theory with zero evidence; I needed to act fast. The quest to prove everything was interlinked and had a bigger meaning than just a game of football. Or.. precious wrestling. That no stone was left unturned and I wasn’t the crazy wild conspiracist I’m undoubtedly being portrayed to be.
So I then decided to watch endless hours of HOW tapes down in the vault. Deep into the archives of the HOTv library itself. Starting from the very beginning so my studies were thorough. Because fuck, if I got this wrong then I might as well forget about War Games. All of my eggs hanging in the same basket.
I mean, at first I found it completely hilarious watching some of the ancient HOW footage. It’s like seeing an old photo of yourself with a mullet haircut. If only we could go back to those times and tell ourselves to stop being so pathetic. I say we, as I didn’t feature much in HOW’s birth. I had to wait in the lobby.
Watching even older talent than myself such as Neo and 2Xtreme light up the wresting scene in HOW around 2002 was truly remarkable. And that was no knock at HOW or the wrestling business as a whole. Because let’s face it; the cheesey shit was all the fucking rage, man.
Now I’m not ashamed that I fell asleep throughout the whole of the 03 footage. Call it a sin but Justin Sin’s run made me dream of
Shane Reynolds a better future. I’m not poking fun, but I’m fully blaming the HOW happy pills for this stifled turn. Besides, the 03 footage was not a necessity anyway. However, the 04 tapes were something I desperately needed to see. That being the crux of this entire theory, see.
Because if memory serves me correct then I was dumped out of the 2004 War Games. Deemed as not fit enough to be in such a match of that magnitude. And given a match with Shocker as a token gesture. Like hush money to stay away from the main event.
But the whole of 2004 had been wiped from HOW history it seemed.
Conspiracy you say? Well it’s no fucking coincidence that’s for sure. It’s no fucking coincidence that the one football program from my collection from 2004 had vanished off of the face of the Earth with all 04 HOW tapes to boot. It’s no coincidence that Liverpool’s match day date with Aston Villa typically coincides with the date of this years War Games.
And it’s no fucking coincidence that Aston Villa football club is by all means connected with all of this in some way.
But how? Well, among all of the footage viewed there was a predominant fixture in all of this. Tapes that dated back to old Victorian times to current day snobbery. The common denominator, and main fixture, firmly being one Chris Kostoff. Who, coincidentally… I just so happen to be facing at Refueled VI.
Kostoff and Villa. Villa and Kostoff. Back and forth, racking my brain for an answer like Ace Venture did for Einhorn and Finkle.
Villa finished tenth that year, you know? So that wasn’t much help. The number ten didn’t feature much in my thoughts either. Nonexistent, really. But that was typical Villa. They just went by their business with minimal fuss. However, it wasn’t always like that for The Villians.
You see, Aston Villa football club once ruled all of European football at one stage. Way Back in the 80s and they were the most feared team across the land. Respected, too.
And BINGO! There’s our conspiracy folks. There you have Chris Kostoff and the theory behind the 04 lost HOW tapes.
See, Kostoff is Villa. And Villa is Kostoff. They go hand in hand like a couple of lovestruck teens skipping through a cornfield. They’re inseparable. Simply because… they’re the same fucking dude!
But this only proves one thing; it’s a test of the body and not the mind.
Don’t you see?! I’m wrestling Chris motherfucking Kostoff, and this is not a battle of wrestling I.Q. It’s a battle on the body. I’m going to have to go through hell to finalize Lee’s last War Games pick. There’s no looking back; don’t get scared now.
INT – FABIOS RESTAURANT – DAY
Inside a fancy looking Italian restaurant in the heart of Aston town, Birmingham, England. There sits leader of Liverpool’s most revered hooligan firm (The Urchins), Keith Rowcroft, with Jonny O’Dell.
If you’re new to following then O’Dell has recently patched things up with The Urchins. He has gained his respect back through the valiant courage he showed last week against The County Road Cutters (Everton) firm.
However, Keith won’t be fooled by O’Dell’s one act of bravery. One swallow does not make a summer as they say. Granted, the jury is still out for O’Dell. Mainly, his status within the firm. But Keith remains adamant he hasn’t simply brought The Fabulous One here for a Calzone pizza. It’s strictly business.
Keith holds a death stare from across the room on a happy little family dining. O’Dell remains relaxed, obviously not aware of Keith’s intentions.
KEITH: Look at that wet Sunday.
O’Dell looks over in the same direction as Keith’s unwavering glare.
O’DELL: What are we looking at, Keith?
I knew damn well what Keith was looking at but I didn’t want to admit it. I really wish I was unseeing it. But what I did see was two kids out with their grandparents. I knew Keith was heartless, but this stretched more than just a game of football.
The elderly man (with the aid of a walking stick) from the family table heads for the toilets.
FREEZE FRAME on the elderly man.
Name: George Courtney
Strengths: Loyal as two dogs.
Weakness: Elastic band legs.
You don’t need to Google to find out what happened in 2004 when Liverpool rocked up at Villa Park. Because I’ll just tell you; it’s easier. Fucking The Villians turned us over. 1-0 and it was goodnight Irene. What a waste of a fucking trip that was. The Liverpool Urchins were hurting and with no Steamers (Villa hooligan firm) in sight that day; we all fought police horses instead.
But this was Keith’s chance for Redemption now, as well as mine. That Keith had successfully tracked down the leader of The Steamers after all of these years and it was judgement day. I’m just not sure if I wanted to execute the old cunt under these circumstances.
George opens the door into the toilets.
Keith, meanwhile, slowly turns his head to O’Dell in a sinister manner. In doing so, O’Dell becomes noticeably uncomfortable.
I’d of taken the coach braking down in Manchester on the trip down here than to be in this position. And that’s saying something because I hate those Manc cunts.
A little coach drives along the motorway passing the slip road for Manchester. The coach cramped inside with little old ladies filling it for a little summers day out. Some knitting, but most bragging about their own families. And there, sat at the back of the coach like a pair of rebels are Keith Rowcroft and Jonny O’Dell.
Keith cracks open a can of beer retrieved from his little blue carrier bag. Judging by his boisterous behavior; lets just say he’s had a few already. Taking a guzzle from the can, Keith outstretches his arms out wide… O’Dell looks mortified. Seemingly like he knows what’s coming. Like a son ashamed of his embarrassing dad.
DIRK KUYT WHEREVER YOU MAY BE
YOU SMOKE POT IN YOUR HOME COUNTRY
BUT COULD BE WORSE
YOU COULD BE MANC
RINGING YOUR SIS FOR A WANK
Dirk Kuyt had not played for Liverpool in years. And to be honest, he wasn’t even the greatest of players. But it was not the reason why Keith chose to sing that particular song. It was for Manchester and the contempt he had for the place, the team (United) and everything associated.
INT – FABIOS TOILET – DAY
O’Dell, unconvincingly, stares down George Courtney who is stood urinating into a urinal on a wall. George seems clueless that there’s another person present as he whistles.
Suddenly, the whistling stops. But not the pissing.
GEORGE: I saw you plotting.
O’Dell seems startled by this possible detection.
GEORGE: Keith sent you to do his dirty work, Big Jon?
O’DELL: George mate, it doesn’t need to go down like this..
What? Stage a fight so when I walk out of these toilets Keith thinks I’ve actually beat up an oldie and done him proud? You’re living on Planet Zion if you think that is achievable. And I was not even going to insult George by suggesting anything of the sort. You see, George is simply one fart away from immediate death but he’s still a proud man. He’s still a Steamer at heart. And by god, in his own mind he’s still gangster.
GEORGE: You either strike.. or when I’m done pissing you’re fucking going to get it son.
George was using a classic scare tactic. It was either fight or flite for me, and he was trying to call my bluff.
The sound of the urine hitting the urinal suddenly breaks up in its flow. Little outbreaks of urine hit the bowl, sporadically.
Until, no more piss.
George stands deadly still.
GEROGE: SCOUSE BASTARD!
George lunges for O’Dell. Except, his hobbling diminishes the very art of surprise. This allows O’Dell to look at his watch, take a cutesy call from HOW doctors, brush his Gandalf beard, and look at his watch once again.
Until a straight jab to the face is pretty much all she wrote; shades of Lennox Lewis in his prime.
George falls back through a cubical door and sits on the toilet from the impact of the blow.
I’m sorry but Kirk Douglas was acting all cray-cray. Had it coming.
O’Dell looks at George’s limp body sat slumped on the toilet. He has blood running from his nose. Weirdly, George has a smile on his face whilst being concussed.
New theory: If Chris Kostoff can’t even acknowledge me then does this mean I’m still not respected? And fuck, does all of this respect even mean anything when we’re all going to be six feet under anyway?
You see, the one thing I’ve been searching for my whole life just seems like unattainable shit. I’ve never asked for it but it’d be sure nice to have a little spoonful.
You, Chris Kostoff. Have buckets full.
Time to kick the bucket.